The sun began to set, dyeing the sky with orange and golden tones. The room was taken over by the soft light of the golden hour, the one that made everything more beautiful than it already was. The big window was open, and a cool breeze made the curtains dance lightly, bringing the smell of cut grass outside.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, guitar resting on your lap, your fingers sliding through the ropes gently. The melody that came out was not in a hurry, it was calm, almost a whisper. No one was supposed to hear it - but he did.

Leaning against the side of the door, Joey watched you in silence. For the first time in a long time, there was no weight on his shoulders. There was no hurry to escape, nor the pain he always carried in his eyes. Just you, just that sound, just the feeling of peace that he never wanted to forget.

With each chord, it seemed that you healed a crack in him. He let himself go, walking until he threw himself on the bed next to him, lying on his back, arms behind his head, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.

“Go on...” - he murmured, with a small smile, almost shy. - “It’s too beautiful to stop.”

You laughed softly, continuing to play, while the wind messed up his hair. Joey turned his face in his direction, and at that moment the golden light hit his eyes, making them shine in such a human way, so passionate, that his heart tightened in his chest.

He stretched out his hand, his fingers lightly brushing your thigh, as if he needed to anchor himself there, as if you were the only place in the world where he could rest.

“If I could stop time” - he said low, sincere -, “I would stop here. Just to hear you play.”